I'll Believe in Anything
by Zappanale
Summary: Helga finally convinces herself with a little help from Dr. Bliss to tell Arnold you know what, but as soon as she sets upon the task a tragedy occurs...Not as dark as it sounds. Has some naughty language. R&R! IS NOW COMPLETE!
1. Now That You've Got It Right

_Now that you got it right_

_Bring love and it'll make it alright_

_Bring love and we'll take it tonight_

_Now that you got it right_

**_Evolution Revolution Love, _**by _**Tricky****

* * *

**_

She said, "I think I'm ready to tell him."

It had been a relatively quiet session up until that point, mostly talk about a recent incident involving Helga's father and the robbery of his beeper store. He'd been taking his anger out in all the wrong places--except on Olga, of course--and Helga was venting. "What gives him the right?" she'd said. Dr. Bliss had answered neutrally, telling Helga the usual spiel: everyone has different ways of venting, he can't help that he takes it out on you, you should talk to him about it.

They'd been getting nowhere fast. Helga's relationship with her parents and sister was still a rollercoaster of love and hate, she still bullied the other students, she still bossed Pheobe around and she was still generally hostile and...well, bitchy.

Dr. Bliss hadn't been prepared to give up at any point, but the thought had crossed her mind. Five months of therapy, of the same old things. Different situations and stories, but the same old things nonetheless.

And now this.

"Well," she said, taking a gentle approach, not wanting to shout 'about goddamn time'. "It's certainly been building up for a while. What brought this sudden change of attitude on?"

Helga was lying on the couch and was looking out at the city scape, a strange expression on her face. Dr. Bliss looked at that face and made an instant analogy: a relieved death row prisoner just about to get executed. Relieved because he's tired of waiting. Tired of the suspense. . "Well..." she began, not quite sure where to start. "It all...it all started during that crap with the FTI corporation..."

She told the story: every bit of it, omitting the ending that Dr. Bliss already knew from the news. She told her about revealing her secret and told her about taking it back just as soon.

Dr. Bliss ingested the news and then said, "Well, it sounds like neither of you had been prepared for that. The wrong place and time."

Helga nodded and replied, "Yeah, exactly! Neither of us were ready for that, it just kinda'...I dunno', slipped out. But...I thought about it, and, you know...I think it's time I got it over with." Her voice was strained. Wired. Dr. Bliss noticed it.

She sipped her tea. She said, "Helga, if you're forcing yourself to do this because of what happened on that rooftop...don't. It'll just end badly."

Helga sat up and her face was deadly serious. "I have to tell him," she said. "I _need_ to. I feel like time is running out now and I can't _do _anything about it! I can't just keep sabotaging his relationships and writing poems and...talking to a locket. He deserves to know."

She hung her head. Dr. Bliss sipped tea.

"Helga...there's still time. There will _always _be time. I'm afraid that if you tell him now without truly being ready, his answer might just..." She sought for a word and trailed off because she knew that Helga caught the gist.

"Well...I'll have to take the chance. I don't know if it was what happened on that rooftop or _what,_ but I just feel so much more confident now! Like I don't even _care_ what those morons at school think about it! It's like I've just broken through the barrier and I _cannot waste this chance! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"_

She was standing up now, bellowing, unibrow furrowed in determination.

Dr. Bliss gaped. Dr. Bliss almost dropped her tea. Dr. Bliss said, "I can't even begin to understand. I doubt I ever will. If you feel this is the right time, then by all means, _go for it_. Tell him everything--"

Helga cut her off. "Maybe not _everything..._I don't think he, uh, I don't think he needs to know about the _shrines_ and that whole cheese festival thing that I did...twice..."

Dr. Bliss chuckled, despite the tense vibe in the room. "Certainly not. Let me rephrase: tell him everything _within reason_. I'm sure that he won't shut you out now, not after all you've done for him and all you've been through with together."

Helga sat down, somewhat calmed by her psychiatrist's words. "There's a problem, though..." she said, twiddling her thumbs.

Dr. Bliss arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I'm not really sure...y'know, how to _tell him._ I can't just come up to him at recess and say, 'Oh, hey Arnold! Just wanted to let ya' know that I've been in love with you since freakin' _preschool_'. I don't want to embarrass him in front of his friends, and I _really _don't want everybody to _hear me_ confessing my deepest darkest most well-kept secret!"

A valid concern. Dr. Bliss set her cup down and steepled her hands in front of her, thinking. "Well," she said, "You can always give him a phone call, but I'm just going to assume this is something you have to do in person. Right?" A nod. "Well then, you could go to his house...or 'accidently' run into him somewhere, or something like that. You've been alone with him plenty of times, just recreate an old scenario."

Helga was nodding fast. Nerves were bundled now and her mind was frazzled, racing a mile a minute. Everything bad that could happen was occurring in her thoughts now: the humiliation, being shunned by her only love. Being called a freak.

Dr. Bliss embraced her. Helga gasped from the sudden contact and then settled into it, feeling tears brim and holding them back with an amazing willpower.

"I'm proud of you, Helga. Really. This is a positive step. After this, who knows? Maybe you'll be able to confront your parents."

Fat chance, thought Helga. She could see the conversaton: 'Dad, can I--' 'Pipe down! I'm watchin' the wheel!'. Yutz.

Despite her actual thoughts on the issue Helga just nodded and forced a positive smile and said, "Yeah, sure!" Maybe a pig will discover the cure for cancer, too.

"I know you must be nervous, Helga. Just try not to think bad thoughts. Alright? I'm sure everything will be _fine._"

Helga closed her eyes.

Helga thought good thoughts.

* * *

**Author's Note: The song is from the album _Blowback._ I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry if anybody seemed out of character, and I hope you continue reading. Please try and take the time to drop a review as well.**


	2. Accidental

_All your kind they're comin' clean_

_They shut their eyes, their mess, their scenes_

_All your kind, their spool and lance_

_Their crash, their kiss, they harmonize_

_All your kind they, all your kind they_

_All your kind they're comin' clean_

_They sleep through keys, they kill their needs_

_It's killed_

**_KC Accidental,_** by**_ Broken Social Scene_**

_

* * *

_

School in full swing. Helga _fretted_, an emotion that was almost constant in her life but magnified a thousand times now. A million times.

She sat in the back of class, far away from her usual seat behind Arnold, and she was doodling randomly on a sheet of paper whilst Mr. Simmons droned on and on about the French Revolution. The paper was filled with pictures of Arnold's head, Arnold's profile. Footballs. She tried to keep her mind off of what was going to happen but found it impossible.

Nobody seemed to notice her in this state except Pheobe, who cast worried glances now and again. At some point she whispered, "Are you okay?" and Helga told her--a little shakily--that she was fine. Pheobe went back to her work slightly worried and after a while put it out of her mind.

The bell rang: lunch. Everyone dutifully stood and went to their lockers but Helga stayed behind for a moment, lost in thought, until Mr. Simmons said, "Uh, Helga? It's lunch time."

She jerked upwards, startled, and then nodded and hurried out of the classroom.

Mr. Simmons watched her go, wondering what was wrong. Then again, he thought, sitting down to his usual tofu and rice roll lunch, with a family like hers he would feel wrong quite a bit. Quite a bit. He started to eat.

* * *

Lunch progressed much in the same fashion. Helga sat in a corner with Phoebe, idly chewing the single beef jerky strip her mother had packed for lunch. She was still fretting, eyes locked on Arnold and mind spinning. _Can I do it? Can I do it? Can I do it? Now is not the time to be scared. Do not be scared. DO NOT._

Pheobe said, "Helga, would you like me to get you something to drink? You seem very off today."

Helga jerked her head, eyes wide. "Uh, yeah, sure! Get me a chocolate milk, and hurry!" Pheobe said 'getting' and scampered. Helga watched Arnold. Helga felt for her locket and grabbed onto it like a talisman. She _watched. _ Arnold remained oblivious, talking with Gerald.

At some point Harold came over and asked if she had any spare jerky. Helga reared her fist back and almost punched him in the face. He scampered back to his table with Big Patty and Helga sat back down and suddenly felt like screaming/vomiting/crying. Any of the three would do. Any one at all.

* * *

When school ended Hlelga's heart skipped.

She nearly leaped through the school doors and was soon on the street, hoofing it _fast_ to Arnold's house. Almost sprinting. She bumped into Harold and Stinky and Sid and they all shouted, but she ignored them completely and just kept running. It was imperative that she get to Arnold's house before he did. Absolutely _imperative._

She had a feeling that if she didn't spill the beans today, she wouldn't ever work up the nerve to do it again.

The minutes changed like seasons, but soon she was across the street from the boarding house leaning against a light pole, chewing gum a bit too hard and trying to look casual. It wasn't working.

She started a pep talk in her mind, unaware of the faces she was making: shifting eyes, furrowed unibrow, mouth curled into a tight frown.

_Alright_, she said to herself. _ALRIGHT. This is it. THE...MOMENT. The big one. The one you've been dreaming of. Do NOT overdo it. Just let the words come out, but when you start to go into poetic my-darling-love-god mode, BITE YOUR TONGUE. If you scare him off now he'll be gone forever. Just let him hear it and then let him think. Who knows? Maybe he'll actually like-like you back._

Or, the always cynical part of her mind replied, he'll be repulsed and you'll never talk to him again.

Her train of thought was interrupted.

There he was. Walking home _alone._ It was like a sign, an omen. Usually he was walking with Gerald or some of the other guys, but today there was nothing. Good tidings?

_Call his name. CALL HIS NAME._

He body moved first, darting into the street, and then her mouth opened and she yelled "Hey, Arnold!"

Arnold looked over at her and she nearly swooned and fainted right there: the usual half-smile, the usual bright good-to-see-you eyes. That accepting and tolerant and easy going aura that just seemed to surround him at all times was especially bright.

But then his expression changed. It morphed in a half second into something _terrible _and Helga thought for a brief and horrible moment that he was making that face because of _her._

But he wasn't.

Not in a manner of speaking.

"_Helga!" _he screamed, and his voice made her stop in her tracks. Apparently this was the wrong thing to do, because his expression got even _more _terrible and suddenly she saw just what that expression was: fear. He was scared about something. About what?

"_Get out of the road! NOW!"_

She realized where she was standing.

She turned around just in time to see the headlights bearing down.

Suddenly she was on the road and it felt all wrong, and things started going black, and Helga wanted to swim away with the blackness.

So she did.

* * *

When her eyes opened again and the darkness cleared, she found herself in the back of a speeding ambulance with nothing to see but medical machines and Arnold.

Her mind was in a haze. Anesthetics. There was a dull pain, but it was distant. Like someone else's pain.

Arnold was talking to her, reassuring words. "It'll be alright. It'll be _okay. _Just don't die, please? Just don't die."

She grasped his hand and _squeezed._ He jerked as if he'd just touched a ghost.

_"_Arnold," she breathed out, almost a whisper. He said, "You shouldn't talk, your ribs might be..." He trailed off, not wanting to even think about it much less say it out loud.

"Thank you, Arnold...I..." Her voice was sing songy, surreal. Like a small child speaking to her mother. She _squeezed_ his hand. She looked up and the tingly blackness was washing over her eyes again, and for the second time she swam away with it.

Arnold's eyes widened, but then he saw her breathing and sighed with relief. He held onto her hand like it was an infant dangling over a cliff face.

The ride went on like that all the way to the hospital.

* * *

**Author's Note: WILL HELGA SURVIVE? IF SO, WILL SHE EVER BE ABLE TO REVEAL HER LOVE FOR ARNOLD? Like I said in the summary, you won't have to worry about Helga dying because this story is _not _going to be an extremely dark one. I hope so far I've succeeded in doing that.**

**The song is from the album _You Forgot It In People_. Please read and review!**


	3. Sleep it Off

_Oh, noose tied myself in,_

_Tied myself too tight_

_Talkin' shit about a pretty sunset_

_Blanketing opinions that I'll probably regret soon_

_Changed my mind so much I can't even trust it_

_My mind changed me so much I can't even trust myself_

**_Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset, _**by **_Modest Mouse_**

**_

* * *

_**

Fluorescent lights. Someone said, "She's opening her eyes." Helga _strained _herself, tried to rise, but was pushed back down by a pair of gloved hands. Someone said, "Jeez, poor kid."

Her view was blurry and hazy and everything was trailing, but she could make out shapes. She could _feel _where she was: on a hospital gurney, being pushed through a slim corridor to a large door that probably led to an operating room.

Suddenly her head started hurting and she remembered getting _hit by a car_. She wanted to scream, but no dice. Her lungs could barely breathe, let alone manage a scream.

She realized that was a bad thing. It meant she was hurt very badly. Helga had never been one for panic. Had never been one to get rattled. Most bad things that life threw at her she either kicked out of the way or took standing up, but the realization that she _might die_ knocked her down.

They pushed her into a room and her vision blacked out, but she was still awake and still thinking. Thinking about Arnold. She hadn't told him, and now she might die, and that was possibly the worst thing she could ever think of. It was _the _worst case scenario, a scene she'd played out in nightmares more than once.

She felt something attach to her mouth and her mind got hazier, got fuzzier. Her thoughts became like a skipping record or a bad TV station: bits and pieces of information and thoughts in between static.

After a second she fell asleep and the doctors started operating.

Nobody noticed the blonde kid with the weird-shaped head standing just outside, wringing his hat in his hands. Sweating. Panicking. If Helga had seen his state of mind over her, she'd swoon and probably write a feverish chapter about it in her diary. Bad things ran through Arnold's head, ranging from Helga's teary funeral to being shunned by his friends and family for contributing to a person's death. He thought about life without her being there and it seemed too different to comprehend. Too strange. She might be a pain in the neck most of the time, but her presence was a part of his life. All the good and all the bad.

At some point a nurse came by and escorted him to a waiting area.

Arnold sat completely still for the entire four hours of operation.

* * *

Arnold winced at the sound of his voice: "_Four thousand dollars! _You have _got _to be kidding me!" 

Big Bob Pataki stood tall and wide in the hospital corridor, intimidating some mousy doctor who'd just given a cost estimate. Miriam sat nearby on a leather chair, snoozing. Arnold could see a small bottle in her purse and could just make out that it said 'tabasco'.

Nobody noticed him standing there, watching. Listening. It was a sad parade.

"That is the biggest buncha' baloney I ever heard of. Criminy!"

The doctor seemed to shrink. He said, "Mr. Pataki, I apologize, and I know this must be a hard time for you...but the prices are set by hospital administration and--"

"Can it. I wanna' know _one thing: _will my insurance cover this?"

The doctor looked through some papers and frowned. He said, "Mr. Pataki, you...you never took out an insurance policy on your daughter..."

The big man ran a hand across his face. "That's right," he said. "I put it on _Olga. _She would've been more careful crossing the street, too."

A shrug from the doctor. Big Bob shook his head. "How long'll she be in here?"

Another look through his papers. "Well," the doctor began, broaching the subject gently, "Helga has sustained several lacerations on her legs and chest and arms. Her left leg has just snapped clean, and she has several broken ribs and fractures in her arms. We're thinking maybe a month or two, but if she really drives herself she can be out of here in two weeks."

Arnold was about to say, 'That's great' but then Big Bob cut in. "Well then," he said, hitching his pants and checking his watch, "I got an empire to run." He yanked out a card for his beeper business and passed it to the doctor, who took the thing reluctantly, as though Bob had some kind of contagious disease.

"My number's on there if anything goes wrong. Heck," he snorted, "Nothing at all better go wrong, with all the money I'm paying you _robbers._"

The doctor cracked a dry smile. "We'll take good care of her, Mr. Pataki."

"Sure thing, pipsqueak. Like I said, gimme' a call if anything comes up."

And then he grabbed Miriam by the shoulder--"What's going on, B?"--and walked to the elevator and was gone.

Arnold watched them leave. His mouth was open and his eyes were narrowed in confusion/disgust. Helga had always told stories about how awful her parents were, but Arnold has just assumed she was exaggerating. Seeing them up close like this, seeing the version Helga always spoke about, was...jarring. Surreal.

And then he got angry, that special kind of righteous "how dare you" anger. How dare they treat Helga like a mistake? How dare they treat her like a burden? How dare they treat her like--

"Jeez, kid." Arnold jerked out of his thoughts, semi-startled. The doctor had spoken to him. "If you hadn't of been there to call an ambulance, this girl might've _died. _I didn't hear her parents even ackknowledge you being here." He shook his head. "Guys like that Pataki jerk belong in the stone age. He'd be great at swinging a rock and carrying a woman by the hair, huh?"

Arnold didn't laugh. Instead, he asked, "Can I see her?"

The doctor checked his watch. "Ah, what the hell. She's probably sleeping, or loopy on painkillers, but go on in."

Arnold shrugged.

He made for the hospital room's door.

* * *

He stared. She just looked so _vulnerable. _It was the only way to describe her appearance.

Helga lay in the bed with her cast leg propped up and her head wrapped in bandages and an arm also in a cast. Her hair was out of it's usual pigtails and blanketed the pillow like a blonde silky shawl.

Vulnerable. A word he did _not_ very often associate with Helga G. Pataki. She'd always been the tough one, hadn't she? Always the first to say 'suck it up' or 'stop being a crybaby'. And now she was lying in bed, broken and probably having awful confused dreams in a drugged haze of sleep.

Her parents had probably never seen her like this. Her parents probably never would. "She deserves better," he said, out loud. But then his mind immediately contradicted that statement with a memories of Helga berating him and playing pranks and et cetera et cetera.

Everything about Helga contradicted itself. She'd call him football-head and pour paint on his shirt and then save him from a man-eater at the beach. She'd toss spitballs all day and then help him save the neighborhood from destruction.

God, that night. He got _tense _from that memory. All this time later, even now. Turning the joint upside down.

He sat down in a chair across from the bed, beside the nightstand. He leaned back and looked at her face: no snores, no drool. Just a scared girl sleeping off a bad day.

_A scared girl._ That made him feel like crying, the thought of Helga all alone in this complex of a hospital with no one for company but that mousy doctor and few bitter nurses. Maybe, he thought, Pheobe would stop by. Or _somebody._

Or somebody. Arnold reached for a pad of paper and a pen, hesitated, and then grabbed it up and jotted down a quick note:

_Helga,_

_If the doctors haven't told you already, there was an accident and you got hit by a car outside my boarding house. I'll be by after school to see you._

_Arnold._

Simple. He tucked the piece of paper into her good hand--the one that wasn't bandaged--and then looked at her face again.

Just a scared girl.

He left the room and headed for a bus stop. His grandparents were probably worried and besides, tommorrow was a school day. He'd see her afterwards and maybe bring Pheobe along.

Helga dreamed of winged cats eating parakeets.

* * *

**Author's Note: I hope I'm not making this too similar to _The Sweet Hereafter, _by...Lord Malachite? If I am, please let me know. I'd hate to be copying somebody's idea, unintentional or not. **

**The song is from the album _This is a Long Drive for Someone With Nothing to Think About._ It's my favorite of Modest Mouse's stuff.**

**Please read and review, yadda yadda. The next chapter will either be Helga waking up or Arnold at school, I'm having trouble deciding.**


	4. Starbright

_And I ride your river under the bridge_

_And I take your boat out to the ridge_

_'Cause I love that engine roar_

_But I still don't know what I'm here for_

**_Streets of Your Town, _**by **_The Go-Betweens_**

**_

* * *

_**

"...and then her dad left her there. I couldn't believe it."

Silence from the other kids. And stares. Arnold sighed and lightly kicked a pebble.

Mr. Simmons had made the announcement about Helga in the morning, mentioning--much to Arnold's dismay--that the accident had occured in front of the boarding house. So of course at lunch all the kids cornered him in the playground and started with the questions: how, where, when, why? So Arnold told them the story, and now that the story was over they seemed uninterested.

Arnold found himself irritated by that.

Rhonda spoke up first. She said, "It was just incredibly sweet of you to stay at the hospital like that, Arnold."

"Yeah," agreed Sid, "Especially after all the stuff she's put you through. I mean, jeez, if somebody did those things to me I'd be _glad _that they got hit by a car."

Harold and Stinky laughed. Arnold _glared._

Gerald came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder and said, "I know what you're thinkin', Arnold: that it was _your _fault she got hit by a car, and that _you_ now have some kind of responsibility to look after her. Am I right?"

"Well..."

"Come on, man. I know how you think."

Arnold shrugged. "It _is _my fault, though. If I'd of told her to look out for that car..."

"Why didn't _she_ see it? For that matter, how come she had to stop in the middle of the road? You didn't have a hand in _any _of this, Arnold, so don't even worry about it. There is absolutely no reason for you to see her again after school today. I mean, really, would she do the same thing for you?"

"That doesn't matter! She's all alone in that hospital. Her _parents_ probably won't even see her. She needs somebody there."

Harold spoke up, loud (as usual), mouth stuffed with a candy bar. "I know that if it were _me_ I would've left her there in the street!"

What happened next, nobody saw coming. It occured in the space of ten seconds.

Arnold took a step forward and extended an arm and slammed his right palm against Harold's chest and sent him to the ground, and with a fire in his eyes that nobody ever really saw reared back a fist and was about to punch in the big boy's teeth when he got a hold of himself.

Gasps. Lila said, "Gosh, Arnold...this is so unlike you..."

Harold looked up at him without fear or anger, but with dumb surprise. His jaw was open and bits of Mr. Nutty had gone across his shirt.

Arnold let his fist drop to his side. He didn't say anything for a while.

"Garsh, Arnold, I reckon you done _snapped_," Stinky said. Everybody edged back a little as thought Arnold were a bomb that needed defusing. He looked at their faces: surprise, dissappointment, fear.

Arnold said, "I'm sorry..." and then the bell rang. Everybody reluctantly walked to class, leaving Arnold standing there with a balled fist and a face that said 'what have I done?'.

"Dang," said Sid to Gerald, "What's gotten into him?"

Gerald shrugged. "I don't think I've ever seen him like that...'cept during the pig war, but that was a different situation entirely."

They walked into the school.

Arnold stood for another minute, composing himself, and then walked inside as well. For the rest of the day he scarcely had a thought that didn't include something about Helga.

* * *

Before leaving school he asked Pheobe if she was going to go see Helga.

"Of course, Arnold. I have a fencing lesson today, but tommorrow afternoon I'll very likely go and see Helga at the hospital."

He nodded and said, "Thanks," and then started down the street with Gerald, walking the six or seven blocks to the hospital.

"I still don't get it, man," Gerald said, idly bouncing a basketball. "What do you think you _owe_ this girl?"

"It's not about owing anybody anything, Gerald." Even though it was. "It's just that...it's the right thing to do.Haven't we been over this?"

"I'm just sayin' that it's kinda' crazy to be feeling sorry for Helga Pataki. If it were _you_ who'd gotten hit by a car, she'd probably just laugh and leave you there in the gutter."

Arnold didn't think so, but he said nothing. They walked in silence for a while and then Gerald suddenly said, "I asked Pheobe out."

Arnold looked at his friend and smiled and said, "Saw that coming."

"Shut up."

"What're you two gonna do?"

Gerald shrugged, dribbled the ball. "I was thinkin' of taking her to Rhonda's party next Saturday. You goin'?"

"Probably not." Gerald raised his eyebrows in a quizzical fashion. "Why?" he said.

"I don't know. I never liked Rhonda's parties all too much."

Gerald dropped the subject. "You know who Harold's taking?"

"Patty?"

"You know it. I see a bright future for those two."

"Since when were you the optimist?"

They laughed together for a minute, and then Arnold saw the hospital and said, "Well, this is it."

Gerald shook his head. "Man, I'm tellin' you, this is a big mistake."

"She needs somebody, Gerald. Even though she hates me, I have to be better company than a nurse."

"Whatever, whatever. I'll see tonight at the field."

They did their handshake and then Gerald walked across the street and disappeared behind a corner.

Arnold felt nervous all of a sudden. He turned and went into the hospital.

* * *

The nurse was a big lady with no eyebrows and thick brown hair done up in a tight bun. Arnold walked to her desk and stood there for a moment, wondering what exactly to say.

"Whaddya' want?" the nurse asked. Her voice was grating.

"Uh...can I see the patient in room four-fifty six?"

"Who, that little blonde girl with the one eyebrow? Yeah, sure, but she's a mean little thing. Tossed a fruit cup at me."

Arnold frowned at that but turned and went to the door of Helga's room nevertheless. He hesitated for a moment and then knocked and said, "Can I come in?"

Silence. Arnold shrugged and was about to walk away when a voice came from inside, saying, "S-sure, Arnold. I mean, whatever _you_ want, football head."

He opened the door.

Helga was scowling. She was propped up in bed watching television with a tray of disgusting looking food in her lap, which she was eating with her good right arm. Arnold said, "Did you get my note?"

"Yeah, I got your little _letter_, Arnold."

He frowned again. Why was she always so mean? It didn't matter. Tough it out, he said to himself. She can't be mean the whole day.

He sat down in the chair beside her bed and Helga's heart started beating a bit too fast.

When she'd read the note that morning--after the doctor had told her about the accident, etc.--and after discovering her parents had _abandoned her, _Helga had nearly keeled over from joy. Arnold, paying attention to _her,_ actually going _out of his way_ to spend time with her! A dream come true.

All day she'd told herself to be nice. See how that turned out. Frustration had been her prime emotion today, a result of the wonderful combination of searing pain and the fact that she was now too scared to tell Arnold the big secret. Her moment of bravery had passed, left behind with a good portion of her blood in that street by Arnold's house.

But now he was here. Helga twiddled her thumbs"So..." she said, timid. "What do you want to watch?"

Arnold shrugged. "I don't watch a lot of TV," he said. Helga pushed some of her horrible hospital food towards him. "You can have some, if you want," she said.

Arnold wrinkled his nose. "Uh...no thanks, Helga. I ate at school."

"Right."

The vibe was so tense you could cut it with a knife. Arnold broached a subject.

"I'm sorry about your parents."

Helga looked over at him, eyebrow raised. "What're you talking about, paste for brains?"

"Well, they left you here. I was there when they did it...it was a really terrible thing to do."

"Tell me about it."

Arnold looked at his shoes. "I guess I owe you an apology. I've always just assumed that you were...exaggerating when you talked about your parents."

Helga nearly died right then. There was a long few seconds of silence and then she said, "It's alright, Arnold-o."

"I just can't understand why they would act like that."

Helga sighed. "It's like I've said a _million_ times: it's all because of _Olga._ I don't even know why they had me. I guess they wanted two Olgas, and when I came out wrong they just kind of pushed me aside."

"That's awful..."

"Yeah."

Arnold looked at her: hair down, a face full of scorn. He understood now why she was always so angry.

"Well, it can't be _all_ bad. Can it?"

Helga thought about that. She nodded her head and ate a piece of what could've been eggs or vomit from her lunch tray, and after wiping her mouth said, "There _was_ this one time...I went on a car trip with my mom, and..."

She told the story and then told him about the time her and Big Bob had gone to the Rats musical and enjoyed each other's company, and about the time she'd saved her sister from an awful con artist.

Arnold listened intently and he could _see_ these events, all of them showing a new side of Helga that he'd only seen once or twice. By the end of the stories both of them were smiling and Helga even _laughed,_ really _laughed._

They changed the subject to kids at school and spoke about that.

"What is it with Sid and those boots?"

"I don't know. He's just always been wearing them."

"Yeah, but, I mean, really! Who wears white boots?"

Arnold laughed. Helga smiled. He checked the clock on the wall and stood.

Helga sat up a bit and asked, "Where are you going?"

Arnold grabbed his backpack. "I have to get home. Pheobe said she'll be by tommorrow to see you."

Helga hung her head. "Oh," she said. Arnold missed the dejected note in her voice. He missed a lot of things. Or maybe he just blocked them out.

"I had a good time, Helga." He meant it and that surprised him a lot.

"Yeah...me too, hair-boy." She said the insult without venom.

Arnold patted her shoulder and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Helga grabbed her locket from out of the folds of the bed--it was cracked and bent from the accident--and cradled it in her hands. "My dear, sweet Arnold...how gallant you are. How chivalrous. Even after all the years of abuse I have visited upon your sweet, oblong head you _still_ come to see me in my time of need. And you even claim to have _enjoyed yourself_."

She hugged it close and then slipped it back into the blanket and fell upon the pillow and slept. Her dreams were of weddings and car crashes and Big Bob screaming.

* * *

There was a police car parked outside the boarding house.

Arnold rushed to the door feeling his heart beat in his throat, fear rushing up his stomach and threatening to make him spill his lunch.

But then he got to the steps and saw two cops leading Oskar Kokoschka out to the squad car. Kokoschka said, "Hey, come on! How was I supposed to know that you can't borrow parking meters! I thought you were supposed to take them with you! A-heh-eh!"

One of the cops, a big red haired guy, slapped him in the back of the head. "Shaddup, Kokoschka. I'm missing my soaps cause a' you."

They stopped. Oskar and the other cop stared at the red-haired policeman. The other cop said, "...did you say soaps? Like...soap operas?"

The red haired cop rolled his shoulders and shrugged. "Yeah, what of it? I only watch it for the girls, anyway."

"Sure. Okay."

"No, really! Only for the girls! Not for the long expansive storylines and the twists that keep me right on the edge of my seat, or the steamy romances that often lead to tragedy!"

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

An awkward pause. The red haired cop said, "Nevermind. Let's get you outta' here, Kokosch--_hey!"_

Oskar was running down the street now, hands still cuffed. "Come and get me, coppers! A-heh-heh!"

The two policeman chased.

Arnold sighed and went indoors. "Hey, short-man," he Grandpa said from the kitchen, munching a peanut-butter sandwich. "How's your little friend doing?"

Arnold laid his backpack on the table. "I don't know, Grandpa. I think she's doing alright now, but Helga's always been hard to read."

_I've loved you ever since I laid eyes on that adorable football head!_

Now where did _that _come from?

"I think I'm gonna go to bed, Grandpa."

Grandpa Phil checked his watch. "But it's only nine o'clock! Are you feelin alright, Arnold?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

"What about dinner? We're having--"

Grandma cut in from the living room: "Roast tofu!"

Grandpa frowned. "I didn't know you _could_ roast tofu."

Arnold sighed. "I'm gonna go, Grandpa."

"Whatever, short-man. Suit yourself."

Arnold went upstairs and showered and went to bed. As he lied there under the covers, staring into the dark starless city sky, his mind inevitably found itself going back to Helga. To how she'd opened up and let out some of herself today. How comfortable he'd been in her presence. How easy she was to talk to. How truly funny and endearing her stories had been.

_Oh, no. NOT...HAPPENING._

He willed sleep to come and about two in a half hours later it did.

He dreamed of places with starry skies.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm not sure what album this song is from. _The_ _Go-Betweens _are an Australian Indie-rock band, I think. Any fans out there? I hate to think that all the songs I've been quoting have been too obscure.**

**I'd like to thank all of my reviewers, it's great to know that the stuff I've written has been good-ish so far. I made this chapter a little longer and tried to take my time with it--or maybe I just added a lot of filler. In any case, this story is probably going to be a bit longer than my other ones. **

**Like always, PLEASE read and review and I hope you enjoy this and future chapters.**


	5. Bittersweet

_You're so bitter_

_You complain_

_I can't give you anything_

_I don't know what you're livin' for_

_I don't know who you are anymore_

**_Bittersweet Me_**, by **_R.E.M_**

**_

* * *

_**

Helga started speaking as soon as Pheobe entered the room, her tone bossy and no-nonense. It made her smile, that semblance of normality. Helga always had been a fast healer.

Her body was still broken, though. There were bruises on her face and stitches above one eye and her legs and left arm were still wrapped in casts that very likely wouldn't come off for a long time. Then there'd be physical therapy. Hours of it.

"Alright, Pheebs, I'be got a lotta' work for you to do. First thing: _please _get me some decent food! The crap this place serves is like rotted fish with barbecue sauce." What? "My monitor lizard needs to be fed a few mice every day after school, 'cause I know Bob and Miriam won't remember, and I could use a book or two. Oh, and..." She trailed off for a moment. "...I lost my bow outside Arnold's house. Get it back for me. Can you remember all that?"

As Helga spoke, Phoebe moved across the room and seated herself beside the bed. The television was blaring some nonsense about midget love affairs--Springer in stereo--and the dim sunlight came through the blinds and bathed the room in an odd grey hue. It had been a rainy day. Pheobe handed Helga some paper and upon it were written page numbers and things of that sort. "I'l remember. That's our homework from today."

Helga tossed it at the trashcan and missed narrowly. They sat in silence.

Pheobe looked at her friend and it seemed that Helga was tearing herself up inside. That wasn't strange, though. Helga had always been confusing that way. So cruel and violent and yet so insightful and sensitive.

"Helga..." Pheobe began, not sure how to proceed with the question. How to make it sound like she wasn't accusing. "...why were you outside Arnold's house?"

A loooong pause.

"I was..."

Pause. Pheobe stared her down. Helga guuuulped.

She said, "I was...jumping rope?" Phobe sighed and shook her head. "No, Helga," she said. "I want the truth. You've been edging around this forever. You think I don't know? I'm insulted that you'd consider me that gullible."

Helga hung her head. She wrung her hands and then turned off the TV and faced Pheobe full on, trying to look confident. The fear was etched on her face.

"How long have you known?"

"I'm not precisely sure." Helga nodded. She breathed in and let that breath out with an amazing amount of force, shuddering with every movement.

"I was...about to tell him. I guess I got caught up in the moment." Phoebe nodded as if she'd expected that answer. She reached over and touched Helga's hand, a warm, comforting gesture. "Did you manage to...get the words out?"

Helga shook her head. "No, and I now I don't think I _ever_ will. That car was like...a sign. I guess whoever's up there," she pointed at the ceiling, "Doesn't want me to say a thing yet."

Phoebe balled her fists in frustration. "Helga, you were _so close_. It was just an accident! That's all!"

Helga didn't budge. She said, "I can't tell him. The moment's passed."

Phoebe looked at her and when she realized that Helga wouldn't be broken she nodded wearily and stood and patted her friend on the shoulder. "Okay, Helga. If you insist." She walked to the door.

Helga sat up a little and her eyes went wide. "Where are you going?" she asked, timid, as though expecting a sharp response.

"I need to get home, or mother and father will worry. I'll try to see you tommorrow, Helga. I hope you get better soon."

And she was gone. Helga tried to sleep but for hours just stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks.

* * *

The kids all asked how she looked.

They swarmed him as soon as he sat down for lunch, asking and needling him with questions: will she walk again? Was she covered in casts? Was she loopy on painkillers?

Arnold shrugged most of the questions off. "Her face was bruised," he said. "She had some stitches above an eye, a cast on her left arm, casts on both her legs...not much else that I could see."

They still weren't really concerned. Just curious. After Arnold sated their thirst for bad news, they scarpered away to whatever corners of the lunch room they occupied and Gerald came over and took a seat, sipping from a milk carton.

"How's it go?" he asked.

Arnold put his head in his hands and sighed. "It was...different." Gerald arched an eyebrow. "Different?" he asked. "How?"

"Well, you know how Helga is usually bossy and mean and generally not nice to be around?"

"Yeah?"

"Well..." he looked for words that wouldn't make him sound strange. "She was different this time. It was nice talking to her, actually."

Gerald snorted and nearly spat out his milk. "_Nice?_ Helga G. Pataki? Man, you must be goin' crazy over this thing."

Arnold looked around the room and spotted a pink dress and for a long and terrible second thought it was _Helga. _It wasn't, of course. Just Gloria grabbing some milk.

He turned to Gerald. He said, "I think maybe I am."

* * *

Three hours of nothing. Helga was going stir crazy.

Sometime in between her sporadic napping and Pheobe's visit, it had begun to rain. On days like this Helga would usually stand and walk to the window and watch for a while, and see the rain pattering all across the city and see little children playing in it.. Rain calmed her down.

She looked at herself in the bed: casts and bandages. She couldn't stand. If she really wanted to, she could call in a nurse and have her move the bed or grab a wheelchair, but Helga didn't want to bother. It seemed like such a trivial thing to do.

She looked at the clock. Past six. Why couldn't she sleep? The question answered itself immediately: Arnold. Her mind wandered to their conversation the day before, when he'd come to see her. Had it meant anything? Probably not. Arnold would've done the same thing for anyone else in that situation. Maybe even Iggy.

_Then why,_ she wondered, _do I feel like I'm going to keel over from delight?_ He hadn't and might never know how much that one visit meant to her.

But he hadn't come today. Now she was alone.

Sometimes she wondered what her parents were doing, but the thoughts made her angry and she tried to shut them off. Instead her mind would wander to Arnold, but _those_ thoughts confused her and added to the frustration. She tried to watch TV but the picture was out due to the rain.

The anger steadily built up. Helga balled her right fist and closed her eyes. She gritted her teeth. Her eyes shut tight.

After a while she slept. A bad sleep.

She never noticed Dr. Bliss enter the room until she spoke.

* * *

**Author's Note: It might be a while before this story is updated again because I have NO IDEA where to take the plot. I really should plan these stories out before I post them, eh? Might be something to do with Arnold's parents, might be something to do with Olga, might be something to do with another crazy Sheck shenanigan. I don't know. Argh.**

**The song is from the album _New Adventures in Hi-Fi._**

**Please read and review! It'd mean a lot to me at this point.**


	6. Mind on Fire

_You're only comin' out,_

_'Cause you came back in_

**_I'm Still Your Fag, _**by **_Broken Social Scene_**

**_

* * *

_**

When Helga finished her story, Dr. Bliss passed her a glass of water and steepled her hands. Considering. Helga sipped from the glass--the water was lukewarm and tasted vaguely of copper, not unlike the eggs she'd had for breakfast--and watched the good doctor's face. A perfect poker face: not one twitch or sign of emotion. Helga had always been annoyed by that in a distant way. Jealous, maybe, because almost all of Helga's emotion showed on her face whether she wanted it to or not.

Eons seemed to pass in what could've only been a time frame of eight or so seconds. Helga would've twiddled her thumbs if she had access to both arms.

"So you've decided that this is a sign. An omen. Is that right?"

From her mouth it sounded like foolishness, but Helga nodded nonetheless. Dr. Bliss chewed on that for a moment. She said, "Helga, it's just another excuse. You know that."

Helga scowled but said nothing. There was still a hard rain outside her window and the sound of it, so monotonous and so constant, started to make Helga angry. Dr. Bliss saw it on her face.

"Are you going to speak?"

Silence. Helga stared at the ceiling.

Finally, she said, "He stayed with me yesterday and we acted like friends. I haven't done that much with him." A nod from the doctor. "It's so strange, how he cares. He's like Jesus, almost. That may sound like I'm exaggerating, but I've never known anyone who would ever go out of their way for people like he does. I can't think when I'm around him. My head is on fire. My mind is on _fire._"

Dr. Bliss grasped Helga's hand as if she were comforting someone who was terminally ill. Helga looked at. She said, "How will I get out of this pit I've dug for myself?"

Dr. Bliss didn't have a reply.

That worried Helga very much.

* * *

The sky never seemed so inviting.

Arnold was lying on the ground in Gerald's Field, sprawled with arms and legs out. A baseball was in the grass beside his head. It had blood on it. There were kids all around murmuring the usual kid questions about whether or not they should cheese it and just leave him. It all depended on the seriousness of Arnold's wound: if his nose was broken they'd run, if it was just bleeding they'd stay and maybe make fun of him a little. The funny thing about that is even though the situation may change later in the life, the thought process does not.

A face appeared in Arnold's vision. A dark face with a big stack of black hair. The face said, "You alright? How many fingers am I holdin' up?"

Arnold opened his mouth. No words came out.

He'd been on second base when the ball smacked him and hadn't heard the warning shouts of his friends because he'd been _thinking about_ thinking about Helga. Now, lying on the ground and trying to breathe through his nose to see if it was broken, her face came into his mind. Shouting at him, yelling the usual things she'd yell in this situation. 'Get up, crybaby'. 'Stop being a drama queen'. 'Buck up, paste for brains'.

Gerald extended a hand. Arnold grabbed it and with the help of his friend stood up and brushed himself off and looked at the faces gathered around. Harold laughed in his obnoxious booming way and said, "Aww, is Ah-nuld huuurt?"

Laughs. Arnold rubbed his nose and sighed and turned to Gerald, who's face was plastered with concern. "Really, man...are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Gerald. It's just a little blood."

"I wasn't talking about that and you know it."

They stared at each other and Arnold felt deja vu. How many times had he been on the other side of this conversation? A hundred? A thousand? It was all muddled in his head, like somebody else's memories, and Helga was in the middle like a witch at the cauldron.

"What are you talking about, Gerald?" Most of the other kids had started to go home. It was late. Harold laughed once more as he walked past and Arnold wondered just who was at bat when that ball nailed him.

"You know what I'm talking about." The two started down the street towards Arnold's house. Stinky walked past and waved with Curly right behind him.

"I honestly don't," Arnold replied. Gerald narrowed his brows in frustration. "Don't play around," he said. "I never did with you."

Arnold kicked at a rock. He ran a hand through his hair. They stopped walking.

Arnold said, "I can't get Helga out of my mind."

Gerald _stared_. "'Cause of the accident, right?"

"Yeah, well...of course. Why else would I be thinking about her?" He didn't like how that came out. Didn't like it at all. It sounded too defensive.

Gerald put a hand on Arnold's back in a friendly gesture. "I _told _you, Arnold, get that stuff outta' your head. None of it was your fault. She could've gotten hit in front of anybody's house."

Arnold shook his head. "That's not it," he said. "I don't know...it's so confusing. Yesterday I spent nearly three hours just talking with her. About all kinds of things. And you know what? It was nice. Like we were real friends instead of just a bully and a victim. Kind of like that Halloween Party, except this time it was different...somehow. Maybe it's just because I _do_ feel bad about the accident. See what I mean? It's like my head is on loose..."

Gerald nudged him and they started walking again. "Arnold," he began, "If I didn't know better I'd think you were gettin' a crush on Helga G. Pataki."

He laughed.

Arnold stopped dead and when Gerald looked back at him he saw an expression of nervous fear all over his face.

"Arnold...I-I was only jokin', man. Chill." Arnold didn't move. His face looked drained all of a sudden. Like somebody who'd been awake all night working.

"Gerald," he said, "I think my mind is on fire."

* * *

**Author's Note: A shorter one, just some build up for the next few chapters. I finally have an idea where to take the story, so expect sooner updates.**

**Question for my reviewers: have I skipped out too much on Arnold's classmates? I feel like I haven't given them enough screen time, so to say. Maybe I'll do a story on Harold and Patty.**

**On the note of my reviewers, I'd like to thank everybody so far for their support and I'm incredibly pleased that you're enjoying what I've done:) No greater feeling in the world than positive/helpful feedback, lemme' tell you. It's a natural high. Makes me want to sing showtunes.**

**And I apologize for the song lyrics this time, they seem kind of out of context, especially considering the song's title. Hope nobody's offended at all. The song is from the album _You Forgot It In People. _Anybody scoped their new self titled album? It's killer diller.**


	7. I'll Believe in Anything

**Author's Note:** Seeing as how I've failed to update in over...a freaking _year_, I decided to just end the story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I hope this does it justice.

* * *

_We've both been very brave_

_Walked around on both legs_

_Fight the scariest day_

_Pull the tricks out've our sleeves_

_And I'll believe in anything_

_If you believe in anything_

**_I'll Believe in Anything, _**by **_Wolf Parade_**

**_

* * *

_**

Arnold didn't come back.

She lay in bed, staring at the immense white ceiling above her, emotions coursing through her small body like fireworks: fear, loneliness, anger. The days passed like years and then one day a doctor's face came above her.

And the doctor checked her and said, "Yep, I guess it's time for you to go, little lady."

They wheeled her out in a wheelchair, gave her crutches and instructions on how to manage the casts. Helga caught her reflection in a mirror: no more stitches, the bruises fading. Her parents were waiting outside in the December cold with a blanket for her and she sat in the backseat with her crutches beside her and her parents talked about everything but _her_. Her dad had apparently lost a greal deal of money that he'd made back in a shrewd fashion. Her mother smelled like whiskey. Helga looked out the window at the steadily falling snow and the bleak gray sky and she tried not to sob.

Their car pulled up beside the old house and their parents got out and Helga got out behind them.

And there was Arnold. He stood without a jacket, his hair wet from melted snow, his face lit up by energy.

He said, "I like you. Like you, like you."

Just like that. Helga's mouth dropped open and her heart soared.

All those years. _All those years._ She wondered if it would be like her dreams, wondered if this was a joke, and found she didn't care. Because of the moment. This beautiful moment. She wrapped herself in it. It became her mantra, her zen, for all years to come.

Arnold just wasn't thinking. He'd counted the days until this, waited with bated breath. Wondered what he'd say and couldn't think of anything clever. Gerald ribbed him, and somehow the information got out and he was already ostracized from all the other kids in his class. Hell, in his _school_. But here was the girl. She transcended all that.

Helga took one step.

Arnold took two.

Helga jumped and took three.

**End**

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: **Fluffy enough for you? This will be my last Hey Arnold fic for a while. Thanks for reading, and please, drop a review.


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